When Legends Collide (MoonBeryl Challenge)

[Harris]

You know, I realized a few things the other day.

1. I haven't challenged for an Opal since 2014.
2. The first and only time I held MoonBeryl was 13 years ago.
3. Matt & I have never fought for an Opal before.

So really, this challenge is probably overdue. I think it's about time the two greatest fighters in Outback history meet in the ring for a scuffle. Since I'm generous I'll allow Matt to have top billing.

Challenge issued.

[Corlanthis]

::Cor wandered his way to the Outback's Challenge Board, a tied bag in one hand, a staple-gun in the other. He fished in the bag once, twice, thrice, followed by a stacatto *THWAP* *THWAP* *THWAP*. And beneath Harris' Challenge, three dried crickets were now stapled onto the notice board.::

[Kalamere]

- Title holder acceptance must be publically posted within 1 week of this validation.
- The challenge must be fought within 2 weeks of the title holders acceptance.
- This tool will assist in helping verify the required dates.

[Goldglo]

Challenge accepted...and I'm curious why there are dead animals attached to it.

--Matt

[JewellRavenlock]

Sacrifices from the poor to God Simon for a great victory.

Or maybe part of a curse so you lose. It's really unclear.

-Jewell

[DemiBob]

Animal sacrifices? Sounds like something Tara would do. Pretty sure that means you're all doomed.

[Harris]

He was a salesman today, showcasing a full-mouthed grin that fit his assumed identity to perfection. Harris stood before a neatly arranged bouquet of microphones as the centerpiece of a press conference he'd convened in the glamorous ballroom of the Hotel Ritz. He cleared his throat once, the reverberation enough to catch the attention of any stray reporters still lingering at the buffet table that bisected the room.

"The greatest match in the history of the Outback and quite possibly the duels is upon us! Harris D'Artainian versus Matthew Algiers Simon. Their first meeting. What may prove to be their only meeting." Harris paused for dramatic effect. "Fourteen Diamonds. Twenty-one Opals. Thirty-three defenses. Arguably the two greatest fighters to ever grace an Outback ring. But the Outback won't be enough to contain this monumental battle of the ages!" He raised his hands in the air, gesticulating with fervor.

"On Sunday, April 30th at 10 PM the Iron Fists Garden will host this colossal contest. Tickets will only be available at the gate, with the exception of a handful of limited VIP packages! Will there be music? Yes! Will there be concession stands? Yes! Will you want to miss this once in a lifetime bout? Absolutely not!" He slammed a fist down on the podium housing the microphones for empasis. "Kalamere Ar'Din has agreed to officiate and if you've got some pocket change I'm pretty sure he'll also be taking bets."

Harris paused, considering. Upon realizing he'd disseminated all the necessary information he asked, "Questions?"

The gathered press immediately sprang from their seats.

"Psych!" Harris guffawed at his ploy. "If you're lucky enough to have my PA's number you can get in contact with her to schedule an interview." Then he walked off the stage.

[Seirichi]

"There she is! Get the camera ready! Wait -- does my hair look good?" A frazzled looking middle-aged reporter said while tugging at her skirt, popping a few buttons on her blouse, and then hand-combing hair hair here and there.

"SEIRICHI! SEIRICHI!" The target of the tabloid reporters attention had been busy with a stern look on her face, arms crossed, and rather focused on watching her young blue-haired daughter tie her shoes.

"Now give the rabbit some bunny ears.." The stern look obviously being one of shared concentration, since it seemed the little girl sported the same expression while Seirichi's words guided her along. The sudden calling of her name had both of them turning a look to the jogging reporters way.

"What?" Because saying hello is foreign for Seirichi when someone is about to get up all in your space. Michi went back to trying to tie her shoes.

"Harris and Matt are fighting next Sunday! Can-"

"Who's fighting what?"

"Harris and Matt.. A `Once in a lifetime bout`."

"I thought we were going to have them over for dinner on Sunday." Seirichi scrunched her lips some in annoyance. This new revelation meant there might not be a fancy dinner. Wait, she can recover from this. If Harris won the fight, that meant he won't be depressed, and if he isn't depressed, that meant probably a good cut of dragon meat out of all of this.

"Daddy wins because he's a winner!" Michi said. Sadly her own fight with her shoe right now is starting to look like a losing bout. The little girl got a ruffled pat on her head though for her words.

"That's right." Seirichi then turned her attention back to the reporter. "Now what do you want again?"

"Could there be a possible affair connection with this fight?"

Seirichi blinked.

"Are you and Matt having an affair? Was stealing Harris from Stick not enough for you? Are you trying to ruin another marriage? Is Harris fighting to win you back?"

Seirichi blinked again.

"I'm sorry but you got something in your teeth." Seirichi gestured with a circling finger. The woman quickly pulled out her compact to open and take a look.

That odd sounding crunch is the sound of a now-cracked mirror being roughly pushed into the reporters face by a quick thrust of a palm. Seirichi had been banking on the woman picking at her teeth with a finger, but the compact made it much better.

While Ms. Sunnysky (Seirichi found her name out later) was busy flailing, crying, and looking a complete mess as she's pulled away by her camera man, Seirichi looked to Michi. The girl still hadn't tied her shoe. Understandable with what just happened, but Seirichi could at least be thankful that she acted as a buffer between herself and her daughter - so the girl most likely hadn't seen the worse of it.

Michi blinked up at her mother. Her little mind trying to put two and two together with what just happened. Seirichi crossed her arms. "Are you going to let that shoe beat you? You're a warrior! Show it who's the best! You can do it!"

The young girl flashed a wide smile. "I can do it!"

It took almost ten minutes of trying and re-trying, but Michi finally did it.

*****************
Thirty minutes later

Seirichi pointed at the yacht deck lounging Harris in passing. "We're still having a fancy dinner after you beat Matt." Because, even if she heard him wrong, she still wanted a fancy dinner. She didn't wait to hear a reply since she already had shrimp and television waiting for her.

And that's how she found out about the challenge.

[Harris]

7 DAYS AGO

Bob Selway had been KLIT-AM's station manager for six years, having been fortunate enough to live through his channel's "golden era", engendered by the success of the Harris/Seirichi tandem on RhyDin Rewind. Ratings dipped significantly upon their exit last February, at least until their replacements found their own niche. Bob hadn't seen or heard from Harris since, left with only a bewildering one-liner before he walked out.

"REMEMBER THE ALAMO!"

Needless to say Bob was surprised to return from his lunch break to find Harris lounging in his office, bare feet elevated to rest on his desk.

"Bob!" Harris exclaimed. "You lose some weight?"

In reality he was even paunchier than the last time Harris had seen him, though it was unclear if that registered in his mind or if it was merely a mean-spirited joke. Regardless, he didn't wait for the man's response.

"I got a job for you. Got a big match coming up, me versus Matt. Once in a lifetime, yadda yadda yadda," he explained. "It's got the potential to make some sick cash though. But we've gotta put in the work to monetize it. Get a big venue, sell tickets, hawk merch, the whole nine yards. I know you've got the connections for it since we did something similar when the station sponsored Top Flight for IFL. And just like then I'll cut you in for a piece."

Bob stared.

Harris waited.

"I mean, yeah. I guess I could set that up," Bob admitted.

"You've got a couple weeks at least, probably. Make it happen Bob," Harris demanded. Then he gathered up his shoes, slapped Bob on the back in passing, and exited his office barefoot.

TODAY

Harris rolled out of bed to a fresh batch of texts on his phone. A message from Bob was near the top.

"VIP tickets sold out already."

Harris grinned. Between the ticket sales, merchandise, advertising, and concession stands (the latter two having been Bob's bright ideas) he was set to make a tidy profit, regardless of the actual outcome of the match. Combined with his additional assets he might finally be able to own something bigger and more impressive than a yacht. And he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Mo money mo problems my ass," Harris mumbled.

[Harris]

Physical advertisements in the form of posters popped up seemingly overnight. And true to his word, Harris gave Matt top billing and everything that entailed.


((Click to enlarge))

[Harris]

He was going undercover.

His blue hair was tucked away under a sandy blonde wig. An hour of prosthetic makeup added twenty years to his appearance. And when it was all said and done he had assumed a new identity, that of Simon Matthews, reporter for Channel 5 News, a gimmick Bob had cooked up with the support of the highest rated local station. He was accompanied mid-afternoon by an actual news crew to his drop zone, the winding line at the front gate of the Iron Fists Garden that had materialized Wednesday, packed with only the most die hard fisticuffs fans.

They came in an assortment of shapes, sizes, and species with many having planned appropriately for the days and nights they'd spend waiting by bringing and erecting temporary lodgings in the form of tents. Some opted to instead bring comfortable, deep seated chairs while others simply leaned against the building or slept on the ground. Sections of the line bloated as fans clustered to interact with one another in an effort to pass the time while still maintaining their places. Many carried hand-crafted signs, while others engaged in heated speculation about the outcome. Indistinguishable tunes wafted from multiple areas of the line, another form of entertainment as individuals anticipated the eventual opening of the ticket booth an hour ahead of match time.

Fake reporter Simon Matthews looked distinguished in his navy blue two-piece suit and approached the line stiffly, without the usual swagger Harris might've used. With a camera hot and recording he set the scene for the viewers that would eventually watch his faux report later in the evening.

"This is Simon Matthews coming to you live from the Iron Fists Garden where a giant group of fight fans have gathered to ensure they get tickets to the biggest fight in the history of sport, rather than going to work so they can feed their families," Harris reported, affecting a nasally tone to mask his real voice. "Let's see what all the hype is about."

Simon Matthews immediately spotted his first victim, and led his real news team toward a male & female pairing sporting Team Fist Nation apparel. He thrust his official Channel Five microphone toward the petite towheaded female and rattled off his first question.

"What's your name and how long have you been waiting in line, darling?"

Wide-eyed at the prospect of being on television, the woman paused before answering. "Uhh, I'm Fedra and two days, I think. Right Ron?"

"Yeah. We tried getting VIP tickets but they were sold out. Couldn't even get through," Ron admitted, coiling an arm around the Fedra's waist, an indicator that they were an item.

"You definitely smell like you've been out here two days," Harris shot back almost too casually. "Big Team Fist fans huh? So you're looking to get in and cheer for Matt?"

He had rolled over the insult so quickly it appeared not to register as both fans plucked at their Team Fist Nation shirts to make sure they were caught by the camera.

"Hell yeah! Matt Simon's the best ever! We were amped when Team Fist finally brought the IFL championship home," Ron answered for the both of them.

"Yeah, you know, the season after Harris already did it. Think they would've won in 2015 if Top Flight had come back?"

Fedra and Ron exchanged glances, taken somewhat aback by the supposed reporter's line of questioning.

"Uhh, well, in 2013 Team Fist knocked Top Flight out of the playoffs so-"

"Thanks for the history lesson Ron. Hopefully you find a way to get the hobo smell off you before you get inside!" Harris interjected, jerking the microphone away and moving elsewhere down the line for another interview.

Over the course of an hour he captured interviews up and down the line with a wide range of fight enthusiasts, peppering many with questions laced with underhanded barbs, either at the fans themselves or his prospective opponent. In stark contrast he reveled in the groups that had come out to support him, offering high fives and slaps on the back unbecoming of an actual reporter. When finally content with the amount of footage gathered to be edited together later by the news station he ended the charade by putting some distance between himself and the line, peeling his wig off, and taking up a bullhorn to make an announcement.

"FIGHT FANS! IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY!" With the crowd's attention on him he scraped his face clean of the makeup to finalize the reveal, which was met with a mixture of enthusiastic cheers and derisive boos. "IT WAS ME ALL ALONG! AND TO BOOT I'VE BROUGHT TWO SETS OF SPECIAL VIP TICKETS THAT I'M JUST GOING TO LEAVE RIIIIIIIIIGHT HERE!"

He held up two oversized envelopes for the gathering to view and set them down on the ground. Then Harris jumped into the news van, managing to catch the opening sprint of dozens of fans willing to risk their spot in line for VIP tickets before he closed the sliding door shut and the van sped away from the chaos left in his wake.

[DUEL Kal]

By virtue of taking the 1st and 3rd bouts in the match, Matt Simon retains the title!

Excellent fighting all around.

More details in the morning.

~Kal

[Harris]

The fans were ravenous.

The Garden was a powder keg.

And once the final point had been scored in Matt's favor those dissatisfied with the outcome decided to make their voices heard. Initially they peppered the field with debris: empty beer bottles, half-eaten hot dogs, and tubs of popcorn. For some that wasn't enough. The most brazen in the stands flooded over the railings and onto the field, where they were met by security. But the mass of humanity that followed those initial trailblazers overwhelmed the meager contingent of guards and before long chaos reigned supreme in the Iron Fists Garden.

Fans punched, kicked, and wrestled each other. Concession stands were wrecked, sending their frightened vendors into flight. Fires erupted, the cause of them unknown, but likely triggered by pyrokinetics attending the fight. The most important attendees hustled out of the stadium hastily, before they could become victims.

The riot raged through the night, spilling over into the Dragon's Gate district where the stadium was located.

[Kalamere]

The details of the night's fights are as follows.

Code: Select all

    Harris            Goldglo    
    ----------       ---------- 
 1    FDO    0    -    1    LS    
 2    FAB    0    -    2    FL    
 3    JB     1    -    2    LS    
 4    FDO    2    -    2    JB    
 5    LS     2    -    2    FnSN    
 6    FDO    2    -    2    FDO    
 7    LS     3    -    2    FAB    
 8    FnJK   3    -    2    CH    
 9    LS     4    -    2    FAB    
10    SP     4    -    3    CH    
11    JB     4    -    4    FDU    
12    JK     4    -    5    FDO

Code: Select all

    Harris            Goldglo    
    ----------       ---------- 
1    FDO     0    -    0    FDO    
2    JB      1    -    1    JB    
3    SN      1    -    2    JK    
4    JB      2    -    3    JB    
5    FnJK    2    -    3    FnSN    
6    JB      3    -    3    FLP    
7    FnJK    3    -    3    LS    
8    FDO     4    -    3    JB    
9    LS      5    -    4    LS

Code: Select all

    Harris            Goldglo    
    ----------       ---------- 
1    FDO     0    -    0    FAB    
2    FAB     0    -    1    LS    
3    LS      0    -    2    JB    
4    FDO     0    -    2    FDO    
5    FDU     0    -    3    LS    
6    FDO     1    -    3    CH    
7    FL      2    -    3    JB    
8    JB      2    -    4    FAB    
9    SN      2    -    5    JB